


There Shall Be No More Death, Neither Sorrow, Nor Crying, Neither Shall There Be Any More Pain

by Ravenclaw_Peredhel



Series: Star Wars One Shots [2]
Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Gen, Grandparent Yoda (Star Wars), Heavy Angst, Order 66 Aftermath (Star Wars), Post-Order 66 (Star Wars), References to the Jedi Council (Star Wars)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 08:47:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29399286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ravenclaw_Peredhel/pseuds/Ravenclaw_Peredhel
Summary: Yoda finds the Council Chamber after the massacre of the younglings.
Relationships: Yoda & Jedi Children
Series: Star Wars One Shots [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2183691
Kudos: 17





	There Shall Be No More Death, Neither Sorrow, Nor Crying, Neither Shall There Be Any More Pain

Yoda has lost many friends in his long life. He is nearly nine hundred years old. Not nuch can shock or surprise him anymore. 

But he thought...

He hoped...

He had hoped that the younglings would live. 

For what monster would kill innocent children. 

Yoda mourned for the Jedi - for his friends. For Mace, for Plo, Aayla, Ki-Adi-Mundi, Kit and all the others who had fallen in this massacre. 

But it was the younglings that broke him. 

They lay all around the council chamber, sprawled in pitiful little heaps. There was little Kya, with a brutual slash across her front, cutting almost entirely through her from shoulder to hip. Her little mouth was open in a silent scream, and tear tracks had marked their way across her face. 

Torath, one arm lying a little way from his body. His head had been sliced in two by a downwards slash, and Yoda could not look at the cloven mockery of the mischievous, laughing child's face. 

Dori, the Nautolan who Plo had jokingly spoken of taking as his Padawan when she was old enough to annoy Kit. She looked so much like her uncle. She shouldn't look like this. Not lying in pieces on the floor, her tentacles scattered around her like limp props. 

Tiny Alna, her whole body curled around a hole through her stomach. 

Motherly little Kotha lay sprawled near Alna, one hand still on her hair. Doubtlessly she had been trying to comfort her friend, even after her leg had been wounded. Right until her head had been all but sent flying. 

Yoda felt ill. 

They were all dead. 

All dead. 

His gaze skipped over them, Dara, Mikaela, Thomas, Constantine, K'iran, Cahon, An'dela, Eoin, all dead, all gone. 

Blank tortured faces gazed sightlessly at him, all trace of their wonderful little souls gone. Where was Jae's little smirk, the one that heralded bubble bath in the fountains or Mace suddenly having brightly coloured robes. Where was Saira's bright smile? 

"My fault, this is." His voice was loud and too-harsh in the silent tomb the council chamber had become. 

They must have come here, where they had always been safe. The Council chambers were a refuge for the children, a place where they could find comfort and sanctuary. Instead they had been slaughtered like animals by one of those they had looked up to, idolised. 

Their hero had turned on them. Yoda could see it in their eyes, the pain and the betrayal. He could not meet their dead, empty gazes. Why should he be alive, when the children he had loved and sworn to protect were dead? 

He would have given his life for these precious, innocent little lights without hesitation. Instead, he had abandoned them. 

And they were dead. 

All the younglings. 

Dead. 

Slaughtered. 

Gone. 

Because of his arrogance. 

Because of his complacency. 

They were dead because of him. 

His walking stick clattered to the ground. 


End file.
